


how am i gonna get myself back home

by immolationfox



Category: Dreamer Trilogy - Maggie Stiefvater, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: 300 Fox Way (Raven Cycle), And we LOVE that for him, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Call Down the Hawk Spoilers, Dissociation, Gen, Give Adam Parental Figures 2k21, Hurt/Comfort, POV Adam Parrish, Post-Call Down the Hawk, The Barns (Raven Cycle), This is a, adam's back and he's dissocating harder than ever!!, idk if i want to tag jordeclan they're barely in it, love that for me, mm time to write another gen fic and pour my heart and soul into it and barely get any views, mr gray said "adam parrish is the real protag of this story", of course theres gonna be angst, this is the beginning of my dean & maura parent adam campaign
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29974704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immolationfox/pseuds/immolationfox
Summary: He was so tired. His head was full of cotton. He couldn’t think straight. Everything seemed muffled and hazy, like he was on the other side of the aquarium wall, separated by thick glass and gallons and gallons of water. Untouchable. Unreachable."Adam," Maura said, the only clear thing he had heard since he arrived...They called down the hawk. Everyone has to deal with it now.
Relationships: Adam Parrish & Maura Sargent, Adam Parrish & Mr. Gray | Dean Allen, Adam Parrish & Orphan Girl | Opal, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 5
Kudos: 53





	how am i gonna get myself back home

**Author's Note:**

> saw some tumblr post like "hey :) u really think adam didn't respond to ronans texts bc he was in class :)? ronans texts AND calls :)?? u fool. you absolute swine. die" and i said "okay bitch" and died

The next hands on him were gentle and unthreatening, but Adam flinched nonetheless. 

“Adam,” The Gray Man said quietly. Slowly, Adam unwound shaking arms from around his head. He did not move from his position curled on the floor. Mr. Gray passed his hands over Adam’s arms and then gently probed his head. “Where are you hurt?”

Adam shook his head. He pointed across the trashed room to his phone, face down on the floor. Mr. Gray nodded and retrieved the phone for him. Adam took it with shaking hands, unlocked it. 

Missed call, missed call, missed text, missed call.

_ Alter idem,  _ Adam thought desperately, pressing the shattered screen to his forehead. His breathing came in bursts. He could hardly recall what happened. This was bad. This was bad.

Mr. Gray’s hand was heavy on the back of his neck, grounding.

“Adam, I need you to breath.”

Adam forced a shaking breath into his lungs. He pushed up onto his hands and knees.

“Help-” he began. His voice broke. “Help me up.”

Mr. Gray’s hands were steady on his biceps when he hauled him to his feet. Something  _ wrenched  _ and Adam barely concealed a groan, staggering into Mr. Gray in a shitty attempt to stay on his feet. Fuck. He was out of practice. He thought this wasn’t going to happen again.

“ _ Fuck _ .”

“Adam.” Mr. Gray’s voice was insistent, now. Adam couldn’t meet his gaze. It landed somewhere near his nose. “Adam, where are you hurt?”

“Ronan,” Adam said instead. His breathing punched out in bursts. “He’s not safe.”

The moment Adam stopped focusing on Ronan he was going to implode. If he started thinking about everything going wrong, he wouldn’t be able to stop. If he started thinking about how much his body hurt, he was going to break down. Mr. Gray squeezed his biceps.

“Adam, I cannot help Ronan right now, but I can help  _ you _ . Ronan would never forgive me if I let something happen to you.”

He did not have to say that Ronan had not forgiven him for killing his father. Adam clutched at Mr. Gray’s shirt, let his head hang. He was so tired. He wanted Ronan. He missed him. 

“Take me to the Barns,” Adam said instead. 

….

Adam curled uncomfortably in the passenger seat of Mr. Gray’s car. He’d taken one of Ronan’s sweatshirts when he’d visited the Barns. It was comfortably just too big on him, shoulders too broad and sleeves too long that he felt marginally safer. More protected. The car’s heat was cranked all the way up but Adam still shivered. He knew it wasn’t from cold. 

The rear driver door opened, letting in a wash of cold air as Mr. Gray tossed in a plain duffel bag. Adam didn’t know what he told administration and he honestly didn’t care. He tucked his arm against the window and laid his head down. He was so tired. A shiver wracked his body and curled in on himself, hissing at the strain on his - whatever injuries they had inflicted. Adam couldn't think too hard about it or he would- Adam did not think about his father. He did not.

Mr. Gray’s hand was a welcome weight on his shoulder.

“Are you going to be able to last?”

Slowly, Adam nodded.

“I just need to go.”

He dozed.

Adam woke from a nap by the slamming of the car door. He checked the clock on the dashboard. It had been two hours. They were at a gas station, but Mr. Gray was not putting gas in the car. A few minutes later, Mr. Gray got back in the car. He had two cardboard coffee cups and a gas station bag with an assortment of foods. He handed Adam one of the cups of coffee and put the other in the cup holder. Adam drank the coffee absentmindedly. They sat in the car silently until Adam had drunk most of the coffee, and then Mr. Gray handed him a granola bar. He waited until Adam started nibbling at it, and then started driving again.

The second time he woke, it was from a nightmare he could not remember. He couldn’t breath. His hands were shaking. He pressed his face into his hands and winced as it dug into the bruise and cut on his cheekbone. Mr. Gray’s hand settled on the back of his neck again. 

“You’re safe,” he said quietly. Adam tried to believe him. He wondered when he began to trust the Gray Man with his safety. Perhaps it had not been until that day. Adam shrugged his shoulders and Mr. Gray removed his hand. “We’re about an hour away from the next gas station I’m going to stop at. There’s still food.”

Adam took another shaking breath and felt it in his aching ribs. He forced himself to eat a fruit snack bar, but it was dry in his mouth.

….   
  


Matthew came sprinting outside when they pulled up to the Barns. He barreled into Adam when he climbed out, hugging him tightly. Adam suppressed a groan and hugged Matthew back.

“Adam,” Matthew said. He pulled back, touched the bruise on Adam’s face. His face was very sober. “They tried to get you too.”

It was not a question.

“Sounds like we have a lot to talk about,” Adam said, attempting a smile as he reached up to ruffle Matthew’s curls. The corners of Matthew’s mouth twitched upward. It was something Adam had seen on Ronan and Declan. Matthew seemed different. Matthew’s hands twitched against Adam’s shoulders. He opened his mouth.

“Adam,” Mr. Gray said. He sounded wary, and when Adam looked at him, he was warily looking around the Barns. He looked at Adam. “I’d better go. Call us.”

He handed Adam his duffel bag, climbed back into his car, and drove away. Adam assumed Mr. Gray was referring to the women of Fox Way when he said “us.”

“Let’s go inside,” Matthew said, taking the duffel bag from Adam before he could argue. He was too tired to argue. 

It felt strange entering the Barns and knowing Ronan was not inside. He heard voices speaking in an undertone as they neared the kitchen. Matthew took the duffel upstairs and Adam continued to the kitchen. Declan was leaning his hip against the kitchen counter, arms crossed across his chest, looking up at a black woman sitting on the counter, mug clutched between her hands. Whatever Declan was saying died in his throat when he caught sigh of Adam. Adam had seen the look that passed over Declan’s face thousands of times - surprise and pity quickly smoothed over. Adam’s hands clenched into fists.

“Adam,” Declan said. It sounded like  _ I’m surprised you made it.  _

“Declan,” Adam said. It sounded like  _ Why didn’t you tell me? _

“Hi,” said the women on the counter. She had a British accent. Adam was not familiar enough with British accents to pinpoint it any better than that. “I’m Jordan.”

“Adam,” Adam said, even though she could have figured that out.

“You’re Ronan’s boyfriend, yeah?” she asked. Adam’s chest seized from something besides his injuries.

“Yes,” he said. 

“They got you good, huh?”

Strangely, Adam felt the urge to laugh, so he did.

“Yes,” he agreed. “They did.” He pointed to the stairs that Matthew was descending. “I am going to go upstairs and sleep for a long time.”

….

When he woke up, several hours later, they talked.

….

Adam was pretty sure the Barns never ran out of hot water. He'd been standing in the shower for over half an hour now, just standing under the steaming spray, and the temperature had not changed even slightly. He ran his fingers through his wet hair, pushing it out of his face, and reached for the half empty bottle of Ronan's body wash. It was a generic men's brand, vaguely spicy and ambiguously man smelling, whatever that meant, and was only partially Ronan smell, because the other assortment of scents that made Ronan  _ Ronan  _ were not things that came in bottles of body wash (cow shit, gasoline, damp earth, woodsmoke). 

Adam lathered up and wished feeling would return to his chest. Or anywhere he previously felt emotion. He'd texted Ronan back, for all the good it did. Ronan had not responded. He tried not to think too hard about what that did or did not mean.

The Barns seemed strange without Ronan, even though the other two Lynch boys were there. Adam stepped out of the bathroom, toweling off stiffly, ignoring his battered reflection, and into Ronan's bedroom, and thought about how the entire place felt off kilter without the middle son there to keep the balance. To be the fulcrum on which the Lynch family now sat. 

Adam yanked the towel over his head and shut his eyes into the soothing damp heat. He yanked on clean underwear and jeans and then was in the process of rummaging through Ronan's dresser for a clean sweatshirt when his phone rang. He wedged it between his shoulder and ear and continued the hunt for clean clothes. He said,

"Hello?"

Maura said,

"Adam. You should come to the house." Adam blinked. "And bring Opal."

A beat. 300 Fox Way was suspiciously quiet in the background. He remembered it was early in the morning. He wondered where Blue and Gansey and Henry were.

"Okay," he said.

"Okay," Maura echoed. "We made shitty pie. Come hungry."

She hung up. Adam pulled on a t-shirt and a sweatshirt over that, wishing he could steal the clothes right out of Ronan's hands. It was very early. Declan Lynch was sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly at the untouched mug of coffee in front of him. His hair was a mess and Adam assumed he hadn't slept at all. Adam felt bad - regretful? - about leaving Declan alone with two dreams he loved very much and could lose at any moment.

Silently, he moved around the kitchen with a familiarity that he missed. He missed Ronan dogging his steps. He felt Declan's gaze on him as he fixed his coffee. Adam turned, leaning his hip against the counter and took a sip of his coffee. It was too sugary - he'd made it how Ronan liked it.

"I'm going to Fox Way," Adam said. "I am also taking Opal."

Declan made a soft sound. Adam said,

"She is a dream, isn’t she."

He was not asking. Adam could tell by the look on Declan’s face that he knew that. He opened his mouth.

"Yes," he said. Adam looked down at the mug in his cold hands.

"I'm sorry," he told him sincerely. Declan looked at him. There was something cold in his face.

“I thought you already knew.”

Adam looked askance. Sometimes he hated being psychic. Declan scoffed.

“Please just go.”

Adam went. Opal was lurking on the porch, chewing anxiously on her thumbnail. Her face was tear-streaked when she looked at Adam. He held out his arms and Opal launched into him. He grunted, chest too tight and stuffed with cotton to take the impact of Opal’s small body, but he didn’t care and held her tightly.

… 

Adam sat at the kitchen table, mug of footy tea half drunk before him. He felt like an island of stillness in the busy kitchen, even though it was early. He hadn’t checked a clock since he’d rolled achingly out of Ronan’s bed and stumbled to the shower. He’d passed Mr. Gray sprawled and sleeping in Maura’s bed as he passed her room as he carried Opal to Blue’s room. Opal had fallen asleep on the ride over and Adam was not going to wake her. 

He was so tired. His head was full of cotton. He couldn’t think straight. Everything seemed muffled and hazy, like he was on the other side of the aquarium wall, separated by thick glass and gallons and gallons of water. Untouchable. Unreachable.

"Adam," Maura said, the only clear thing he had heard since he arrived. He felt her hand touch his shoulder and then she was kneeling on the floor next to his chair. He turned to look at her. He felt untethered. Slowly, Maura lifted her hand and touched the cut on his cheekbone, brushed his hair off his ear, and left her palm warm against the side of his face. Adam’s whole body felt drawn tight. Somewhere in his knee or calf or thigh there was the dull throb of pain. Maura was so small. She never seemed small before. 

Maura got up and put her arms around Adam. 

Adam went very still. And then he sagged, hands going up to weakly curl into Maura’s sleeves, pressing his face into her shoulder. He was so tired. He was so tired. He thought he had left this kind of bone deep ache behind. He should have known better. 

For the first time since those people showed up to mug him as he left his shift at the library, Adam began to breath. It came in fits and starts, shuddering and shallow and desperate as the oxygen clawed down his throat and into his lungs. It burned.

“It’s not fair,” he whispered. He didn’t realize he was crying until he spoke. Maura ran her fingers through his hair and cupped the back of his head. 

“No,” she agreed. “It’s not.”

Adam pulled back and wiped his eyes and felt more like himself. The water had drained from the fish bowl. The glass was cracked. Calla plunked a plate of questionable and unidentifiable pie down in front of him. 

“Eat,” she said. Adam ate, but it didn’t taste like anything. When he finished Maura sat down at the table across from him and Calla shuffled the cards and spread them in front of him. Adam’s hand, limp on the uneven wood of the table, curled into fists. Something terrible had happened and he did not want to know. 

“Parrish,” Calla said. Slowly, Adam reached forward and withdrew a card, but he could not bring himself to turn it over. He couldn’t make his hand cooperate. “We need to know.”

Adam flipped the card despite the tears blurring his vision, unfallen and pooling in the corners of his eyes. The Moon. Adam swore and threw the card down. 

“Another,” Calla said. Gritting his teeth, Adam pulled a second card and flung the Tower down next to the the Moon. Calla opened her mouth, but Maura cut her off.

“Adam,” she said gently. “One more.”

Adam fisted and unfisted his hands. He missed Persephone. He drew another card. The Magician. Angrily, he threw that card down too. He was just being pissy now. He thought it wasn’t uncalled for. 

“This doesn’t tell us shit,” he bit out. Still angry, he leaned forward and grabbed a fourth card and tossed it down. The Hanged Man. “Shit,” he swore again. “Fuck. Idiot.”

Adam put his head in his hands. 

“Well,” said Maura.

“He is a goddamn inconsiderate asshole who doesn’t think before he does stuff,” Adam said, feeling the need to argue with Maura’s one syllable that spoke volumes, the words muffled in his hands. He sighed heavily, scrubbing at his eyes. He was so tired. He missed Ronan. “I don’t care if he put himself in- in whatever this situation is. I don’t even- we don’t even know what’s going on, I don’t even know what situation it  _ is. _ ” Adam waved a hand angrily towards the cards in front of him. “The cards can’t even tell us something worth  _ knowing! _ ”

“Don’t dismiss them like that,” Calla sneered.

“Don’t dismiss Adam like that,” the Gray Man said from the doorway. Calla twisted in her chair to glare at him and Maura twisted in her chair to smile at him. 

“Watch your mouth,  _ Dean _ ,” Calla said. “I can change my mind about you.”

Mr. Gray only spared her a glance as he crossed the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee and cut a slice of pie. He pulled a fourth chair up around the table and sat down between Maura and Adam. Adam was never more grateful for his presence. It took the pressure off Adam.

“Alright,” Mr. Gray said. “I’m sure I can find out what happened. Have you talked to Henry at all?”

This was directed at Adam. Adam shook his head.

“That’s fine. I’ll start looking into it today.” He leveled a look at Adam. “If I have to leave, are you coming with me?”

Carefully, Adam did not fist his hands, and instead spread them out against the table. He nodded, once, firmly. He wasn’t going to stay safe and comfortable at the Barns or Fox Way. Ronan wouldn't rest until he helped Adam. Hadn’t.

“Opal will stay here,” Maura said. She left no room for argument. “Besides, I’m sure the other Lynch boys won’t be-”

She never finished her sentence but she didn’t need to. Declan didn’t need another dream to worry about. Adam’s chest still ached and he could still feel his blood pounding in the cut on his cheekbone and the bruise at his temple but this was nothing. 

If he was being completely honest, which wasn’t something he had the luxury of doing often, Adam almost missed this. The desperation, the adrenaline, the ache and the need and the driving force to know and to find and to save. Being a student was so  _ boring _ . He had gotten everything he wanted at Harvard, but he was starting to think it was a stale dream. He missed being the Magician. It was all so mundane and hearing classmates talk about new Audis for birthdays and vacations to Aruba wasn’t frustrating and alienating, it was just so-  _ childish _ . It felt like listening to small children talk about the new toys they wanted for Christmas, when you knew that the thing they want isn’t going to last or have any worth beyond the fleeting moment of the getting. He had classmates that wanted power. Adam new what real power felt like. He’d summoned lightning. He spoke to trees. He defeated a demon. What was Harvard in the face of all that.

Ronan Lynch was storming no man’s land. Declan Lynch was defending the home front. The Gray Man was running reconnaissance, and Adam?

Adam Parrish was air support. 

He sat up straight in his chair. The sun breached the gray clouds and the foggy window. He reached forward and slid the cards together so they again formed a deck and pushed it towards Calla.

“I have Persephone’s,” he said, and like that meant something, because it did. He looked around. He could hear Opal fussing grouchily as the other residents waking in Fox Way woke her as well. She was so much like Ronan. It was time to get to work. “I’m calling the others.”


End file.
